


Bargaining

by Diary



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Bechdel Test Fail, Canon Disabled Character, Conversations, Families of Choice, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Implied Sexual Content, Marriage, Mildly Dubious Consent, Morally Ambiguous Character, POV Jaime Lannister, POV Male Character, Past Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister, Post-Season/Series 05 AU, Romance, Sex Talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 13:37:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14853797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diary/pseuds/Diary
Summary: AU. "Want to make another bargain, my lady?” Complete.





	Bargaining

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Game of Thrones.

Raising an eyebrow, Jaime dares Brienne to continue.

Over several hours, she’s led him in circles around the forest. She’s tried to send him off with lies, pleaded with him, and finally, she’s thrown ‘Kingslayer’, ‘oathbreaker’, ‘less than a man’, and even ‘fornicator’ at him.

Now, she gapes at him, and he says, “You know, the fact you’re so desperate for me to not follow you only makes me more curious. Poor, little Pod, though, he truly believed you when you left him at that inn. I’m guessing you paid the bailiff I saw you talking to, to lock him up for a day or two on some false charge. Just enough time so that when he does realise, he won’t be able to charge after you.”

Her hand twitches.

He manages not to laugh. “Oh. Want to fight, my lady? Want to take that sword I gave you, face a one-handed man, and- I’m curious. The first time, you couldn’t kill me due to your oath to Lady Catelyn. Now, no such oath holds you back. Assuming you’re good enough, you could hurt me. Kill me. But of course, you won’t do the second. Gods help you, you actually care for me.”

“Gods help me,” she repeats.

He waits.

“I’m not a maid.”

He can see the truth in her face, but how he’s supposed to react- Under normal circumstances where she hadn’t betrayed her pup of a squire and struck he himself as viciously as she could with her words, he’d likely torment her for giving into a woman’s desires. Unless, of course- but no, even with Locke’s men, she made it clear she’d fight and succeed or fight and die.

What if potions or something else was involved, he sickly wonders.

No, he tells himself. Don’t jump to such conclusions.

For all the seriousness she places on oaths, she’s only human, and the rules regarding sex is one many otherwise completely honourable men and women break. Ned Stark, watchmen, kingsguard, women who wear the maiden cloak in name only after enjoying their future husbands, hypocritical and truly pious septas and septons alike.

She’s watching him carefully.

He shrugs. “If it wasn’t a man, I can only hope it was a woman. I’m afraid I can’t quite approve if you truly did lay with a horse, my lady.”

Her lips twitch, although, whether in amusement, irritation, or a combination, he can’t discern.

“Before Locke captured us,” is her quiet response. She looks at his gloved, golden hand. “You didn’t lose your sword hand saving a maiden.”

Giving in, he laughs. “Part of me hopes that’s your last defence to stop me, because, truly, my lady, this is getting tedious, and yet, part of me is curious what else you could possibly do aside from fighting me.”

“Locke hated the fact I’m the type of man who goes through life easily throwing around my money and family name and knowing it will get me whatever I want and damn the people who are harmed in the process and woe to those better than me who never have the chance to strive and do great things. And even for all your touching fondness for me, you can’t deny that’s exactly the type of man I _am_. If I hadn’t saved you that night, there’s still a very good chance I’d have said or done something else that would have set him off.”

She closes her eyes, tightly inhales, and slowly exhales.

“As for the bear pit, just because I felt like rescuing a maiden, you did well enough,” he adds.

She simply shakes her head, and deciding to have pity on her for the moment, he continues, “How was it? Obviously, it didn’t leave you with an unmaidenly desire to repeat the act when better options came your way.”

“Such arrogance to automatically label yourself a better option,” she grumbles.

He doesn’t bother trying to hide his grin. “I didn’t. You just did.”

“No! I- Don’t deny you didn’t think it then and weren’t thinking it now,” she insists.

“If it pleases you. You haven’t answered. How was it?”

Blushing, she looks away.

“Well?"

“It was- it wasn’t as bad as my septa warned me, but it wasn’t particularly- Jaime,” she looks at him. “Please, stop following me.”

“Did you bleed?”

“No,” is her terse answer. “But with all the horseback riding and the fighting I do, and the fact I don’t always eat steadily on my journeys-”

“You don’t need to make excuses. Some maidens who don’t do all that don’t bleed. Sometimes, it just means their body was made that way. Other times, it means they had a man who knew what he was doing and made her body open painlessly to him.”

She looks at him with a slight glimmer of wonder, and it confirms to him her septa filled her head with annoyingly inaccurate ideas about sex and that the man who was with her only reinforced them.

“I don’t know if I could make you experience truest pleasure the first time,” he says. “From my observation, it usually takes practise over numerous times for a man and woman to figure out what she needs. But if you let me, I could make it so that you’d crave it. You’d no longer be able to feel as if you were still a maiden.”

“Still not interested,” she mumbles.

“Of course, you are. You know, there’ve been women uglier than you who’ve enslaved men with their charms. You not having any idea how to use sex as a weapon, a tool, a bargaining chip fits perfectly with your devout adherence to honour. It also makes you weak. Because, Maid of Tarth,” he moves closer to her, “I do know how. So, let’s strike a bargain, shall we?”

She gives him a disgusted, half-confused look. “Men once bet on who could take my maidenhead. I’d never use- to hurt or manipulate someone.”

Despite how strong the urge is to find out if her lack of a maidenhead is due to one of those men winning, he knows now isn’t the time.

“Not even to keep me from following you?”

Her eyes and posture betray the line of thought running through her head.

“A bargain,” he repeats. “This forest is deserted but for animals. You let me take you, and if you aren’t desperate for me, if you don’t find it one of the most enjoyable experiences of your life, you walk away, and I go retrieve Pod. Oh, we’ll still try to find you, but there’s a chance you’ll be able to cover your tracks.”

Because she can’t help herself, her face is filled with a mixture of emotions. “I could lie.”

As soon as the words are out, she looks as if she might truly smack herself with the hilt of Oathkeeper, and he wonders in fond amusement how much effort it truly took for her to be able to utter all those earlier insults with a relatively straight face and mostly steady voice.

“You might be able to say the words, but I promise you, a person like you, so painfully honest, kind-hearted, and defiant, you wouldn’t be able to temper your reactions, and they’d show you for the woman the experience had made you.”

She glares. “And if you can manage to do this, I expect you’ll want me to tell you the truth and let you follow me.”

“Just letting me follow you would be enough. Oh, and also, marry me and let me name our first daughter.”

For all his thoughts on her looks, until now, he’d never thought she’d resembled a blue-eyed toad.

“Be serious,” is her hoarse reply.

“I am. Your name is normal enough, but some of the names Tarth produces for girls- At least one of our daughters is going to have a proper name. You can name all of our sons. After all, ‘Jaime’ is a somewhat unusual name, but for reasons unknown, it’s what my mother wanted.”

“J-Jaime,” she grits out.

He puts all the sharpness he can into his smile. “In the past, you could have had me without it, but never let it be said a Lannister doesn’t always take advantage of opportunities when they arise. My sister and I are permanently done, but this doesn’t release my duty towards two of the three children we made. Marrying a highborn lady and having legitimate children should help people accept Myrcella and Tommen more easily.”

There’s a twinge when her eyes tell him how easily she accepts this reasoning, and he knows he truly is no better than those who’ve always made his brother feel less.

When he didn’t know Brienne of Tarth as anything but the mildly interesting knight who was nevertheless in his way, he doesn’t feel much guilt for how he ferreted out and attacked her weak spots, but later- he wishes he’d let himself treat her with the kindness she so deserves and made her see and accept how valuable a person she truly is rather than hiding behind careless banter and gestures she could rationalise away.

“Where I’m going is dangerous,” she says. “Death is a very real possibility.”

He sighs. “I’d figured that out on my own. That’s probably why, even after all you’ve done recently, I still place my trust in you. So, you’ll promise me that, if we survive, you’ll marry me when we come across the first septon available. No cloak, no family, just Pod and whatever other witnesses we can find, our hands wrapped together, and our vows said.”

“Marriage isn’t something to be entered into without a long conversation,” she protests. “Terms must be agreed on. When he still had hopes of me marrying, my father had a marriage contract carefully constructed, and both my intended and I were to sign it before the wedding.”

“We can talk as long as you want. You’re the one on a schedule, not me.”

“This is bloody ridiculous!”

“What’s ridiculous is how you always find yourself in these fascinating dilemmas. You know what happens when I’m gaoled. That and not wanting to arouse Pod’s suspicions is what kept you from taking that option. Knocking me out and leaving me defenceless in that inn- well, either Podrick wouldn’t be able to help me due to being gaoled, or again, he’d be suspicious. Here in the forest, the danger in leaving me defenceless is even greater.”

“Tell me, my lady, did you ever worry about me waking up unharmed and coming after you for vengeance? Do you neglect to try fighting me because you’re afraid I might just win?”

She doesn’t answer, and he desperately wishes she would.

“If,” she finally responds, “we do- you’re not to plant your seed, and I will take moon tea until after we go to Tarth and meet my father. Once we do, if you wish it and the seven grants it, I will bear your children. You may name the first girl. Do you want Tarth?”

“It’s not the reason I’d be doing this, but since your father wants you and your heirs to have it, I’ll make my home there. Casterly Rock can go to the heirs of Myrcella or Tommen, or if my sister does end up remarrying, one of hers.”

“You’re not to harm your brother.”

Surprise fills him.

“Even assuming we survive, Pod will see sense, and he’ll go searching for your brother. If you ever try to hurt Pod, I won’t hesitate in fighting you,” she informs him with dead seriousness.

Somehow, he doubts Pod will be able to condemn her enough to leave her, but nevertheless, he says, “Fine, if I ever come across Tyrion, I won’t physically harm him, but I won’t accept him as my brother, either, and should he have need, I will give him no aid.”

“If it involves Pod, you will allow me to give them aid.”

“As long as it doesn’t involve me, I’ll stay completely out of it,” he agrees.

“My father or someone he appoints will have a deciding opinion on any of our children’s marriages.”

He doesn’t necessarily object, but-

Before he can form the question, she continues, “Boy or girl, I don’t want any of my children to be forced into a marriage. I’m sure few or none of them wouldn’t want one, but if they do, you’ll have to be content to see your legacy continue with your other grandchildren. And if they do- children can make regrettable decisions if their parents don’t intervene. Except, I’m not good at- For all my father wanted me married, he turned a few men away, believing they’d not make good husbands. It’s only right he should get to try to protect his grandchildren as he did me.”

“A deciding opinion, but not necessarily a final one,” he agrees. “You know, I was happy to join the kingsguard, but looking at some of what it’s brought me over the years- I’ve never had any say in the others, but since I would have a say in our children, I wouldn’t like to see them don a cloak or join a religious order just to escape marriage.”

She looks at him with clear interest written on her face before biting her lip.

He waits.

“I have a stuffed toy at Tarth,” she blurts out. “It’s- My brother, Galladon, he made it when I was born. It was supposed to be sea lion, but he was very young- In all honestly, Tamalie is an ugly, misshapen, worn thing. But when I’m at Tarth, I always sleep with her in bed, and I even made my father put it into the marriage contract that my husband would never harm her and would let her continue sleeping in my bed.”

Jaime doesn’t think he’s ever wanted to kiss her as much as he does now.

He’s heard the tales of Tamarellina, a majestic sea lion who once saved young, unwanted Tarth girls when their parents tried to drown them in punishment for not being boys until an evil sorcerer managed to kill her, and he’s willing to bet the toy is named after her. He doesn’t know if the brother Brienne never knew had mangled the name of his gift and Lord and Lady Tarth had let it stand or if a young Brienne had addressed it by the diminutive and it’d stuck.

Hoping she accepts his sincerity, he softly says, “Of course, Brienne.”

For a moment, she looks truly lost.

Then, she slumps. “You still have some trust for me. Please, I beg you, Ser Jaime, trust that what I am doing is right and let me go alone.”

“Whether it’s right or wrong, I’m not going to let you go into certain death by yourself. If you can make the choice to risk yourself, so can I. I’d say so can Pod, too, but if we’re to die, I’d also rather the lad be spared. So, my lady, what do you make of this dilemma? What will you choose?”

She stares down at Oathkeeper, and he brings his hand to his sword.

“On your children’s life,” she challenges. “On the lives of Princess Myrcella and King Tommen, you swear, if I name you unsatisfactory, you will leave.”

“On the lives of Myrcella and Tommen, my firstborn daughter and second son, I swear, if I can’t extract a confession from you using my skills at pleasure alone, without harmful coercion, I will go retrieve Pod.”

“It won’t be pleasurable for you,” she mutters.

He shrugs. “All most men need is a warm hole to fill. But this isn’t about that for me. This is about following you, and hopefully, coming out of it all with a suitable wife and children.”

“Wouldn’t it bother you that your bride wouldn’t be a maiden and not by you?”

“After all I’ve done, I recognise I’m in absolutely no position to judge such a thing. Besides, unlike many men, I know that an honest woman will be faithful to her husband even if she was unwed when she gave her maidenhead to another man.”

“Very- very well,” she stutters. “A bargain, then.”

I’ve never been enough for my sister, and now, my bedding and wedding of a woman I’ve long since wanted is going to come from one of the most bizarre situations I could possibly manage to find myself in, he wryly reflects. Are you smiling or shaking your head in shame, Father?

She chances a shy, questioning look at him.

“I won’t touch you until you touch me, first, my lady. Whenever you’re ready.”

The look she gives him shows she considers this cruelty but knows she can’t safely label it as such.

After a moment, she awkwardly presses her palm against his shoulder.

“May I kiss you, Brienne?”

“If you wish,” she quietly answers.

He’s not surprised by the awkwardness but is pleasantly startled with how quickly they fall into a rhythm and it stops being so.

Remember, he warns himself, don’t get too caught up.

Making pleased noises, she tries to get closer to him, though, her armour and their swords don’t make it easy.

He breaks away, and she makes a protesting noise and reaches out for him before abruptly stopping with a look of reminder entering her eyes.

She scowls challengingly at him.

“Oh, I know,” he says. “Kissing isn’t the same as bedding.”

Starting to strip, he laughs when she honest-to-gods squeaks before turning around.

“You’ve already seen it all,” he points out. “And so have I. We could do it with most of our clothes on, but be fair, Brienne. I have more to lose than you do, and so, I should have every advantage there is. Maximum pleasure usually happens when both the man and woman are both as bare as the day they were born.”

She turns back around just as he’s finishing removing his shoes. “I have more to lose.”

Before he can argue, her eyes land on his golden hand. “Then, be bare,” she says. “If I want you, I just want you.”

As he’s trying not to let his overwhelming emotions bubble too close, she hastily amends, “Unless, it makes you more comfortable. If it is part of you or just keeps you from pain, you should have the advantage of keeping it on.”

Suddenly, he has a frantic desire to go back in time and force himself to never mistreat Brienne of Tarth and do whatever necessary to convince her to marry him as soon- He’s aware part of their trust and friendship has been built not just by the trials they’ve faced together but some of the hurt they’ve dealt one another. Without it, they might not have revealed parts of themselves to each other.

Still, the desire is strong.

“It doesn’t hurt by itself anymore, but sometimes, the straps and gold chafe. Help me remove it?”

She nods.

Once it’s off and has been gently placed on the ground by her, he removes Oathkeeper and gets to work on her armour and the rest of her clothes.

Arranging all of their clothes into a bed-like covering under a shady tree, he sits down, reaches up to take her hand, and asks, “Will you lie down?”

Closing her eyes, she does.

Once she’s settled, his eyes scan her body for the best place to start.

...

He knew his victory would almost certainly be bittersweet, but he didn’t expect it to hurt this much.

“ _I love you. And I wouldn’t be better off_ _if_ _I didn’t.”_

If he thought she’d accept his words, he’d tell her how much he loves her.

As it is, he can only pray, if they live, he’ll be able to convince her someday. The thought she might never accept his love in turn is too much for him to dwell on.

Standing, she harshly orders, “Get dressed. I’ll tell you as we walk.”

Once they are, he tries, “Brienne-”

“I came across a faceless woman while looking for Arya. And I made a deal for information. I promised, once I found Arya and delivered her to Sansa, I’d come here. There’s a cave in the heart of the forest, and inside it is a vicious direwolf. She told me numerous warriors have been killed trying to slay it. I’m to defeat it or die trying.”

“And did she say you had to do it alone?”

“No. That doesn’t mean I was going to risk you or Pod. If you hadn’t shown up-”

“You’d have left Pod all by himself in a foreign city, wondering what had happened to you,” he demands.

“I planned to have him arrested and given a note after released. I was going to send the fastest ravens I could find to you and your brother. With any luck, one of you would get to him before he could- and with all my hope, I prayed everyone would be sensible enough to accept my death and-”

“By the seven hells, you _don’t_ have the right!”

Stopping, she finally looks at him. “In the eyes, tell me, in my situation, you wouldn’t have done something similar or much more ruthless.”

He’ll admit to himself, if he planned to head into almost certain death and she somehow found out, he probably would, and some of the thoughts on how he might make him feel sick.

“That’s not the point,” he insists.

Giving him an unimpressed look, she resumes walking.

“It’s not.”

Her determined silence is more pointed than any verbal answer she could give.

He sighs. “We need to come up with a strategy.”

…

The next day, it’s late afternoon when they make it back to town, and along with the blood covering his golden hand, he has a mismatch of gashes on his lower back. Thankfully, aside from a few minor scratch marks on her face, Brienne is completely unharmed.

Ignoring the looks, they both sigh when they get to the gaol and find Pod mournfully sitting in a cell.

“My lady,” he exclaims, “they said I-”

Pausing, he takes in her face. “My lady? Are you- what can I do?”

The bailiff opens the cell door, and Pod almost trips in his rush to get over.

Letting go of Brienne’s hand, Jaime catches him. “We’re both fine.” Digging out his pouch of coins, he orders, “Podrick, go find a septon and bring him to the inn straightaway. Or no, first, go buy some moon tea, and then, find a septon.”

“A sept- moon tea- My lady,” he desperately cries.

“Pod,” Brienne says, and her gentle tone settles the lad some. “We are both fine, I promise you. Um, this is going to take some time to fully explain. Right now, all you need to know is that Ser Jaime and I are getting married, and I’m not going to risk a child until we arrive in Tarth. Just do as you’re told, and we’ll all talk later.”

“Ye- yes, of course,” is Pod’s dazed response.

…

When he first arrived, he got a room with two beds and insisted Pod move from Brienne’s room to his.

Now, after they’ve cleaned one another’s wounds with boiled wine and bandaged them, they wait on his bed with her sitting against the wall and him resting his head in her lap.

He knows he has to stay awake, but with her gentle fingers threading through his hair, all his senses are trying to tempt him into giving into sleep.

“Jaime.”

Making a contented noise, he snuggles closer.

“We don’t have to.”

“Hmm? What?”

“Get married. I can drink enough moon tea to ensure no child results from what we did.”

He sits up so fast the gashes in his back open.

“Jaime!” Before he can respond, she’s getting up, pushing him down, and ordering, “Stay, be still, don’t hurt yourself!”

When she sits back down and begins tending to the gashes, he scrapes his nails against her legs enough to irritate her but not hurt. “Whatever objections you have, you should have considered them more before making the vow. It’s too late, now.”

“I don’t have any objections.”

He makes a sceptical noise.

She smacks his head.

“I meant what I said,” she says almost too quietly to hear. “I love you.”

He only lets himself relax a bit. “Good.”

She finishes tending to his back, and her fingers return to his hair. “You kept me alive. The other things- there are plenty of highborn women who’d gladly marry you.”

Gritting his teeth and taking a steadying breath, he carefully sits up. “That’s all true. Want to make another bargain, my lady?”

There’s a bit of hurt in her eyes, but to his annoyance, the relief seems to be greater. Nodding, she looks steadily at him.

“If you can make me hate you before the septon gets here, I’ll release you from your vow. You’ve already lied to me, insulted my manhood, and thrown most of my sins back in my face, especially the ones you knew I had no choice but to commit and did so for the greater good. But go ahead, it’d be interesting to see if the woman who went from hating a man who permanently crippled a child, killed his innocent kin, and laid with his own sister to loving him can make the same man stop loving her back.”

Jumping, she studies him with startled, searching, beautiful eyes.

Sighing, he takes her hand in his. “Brienne- Let the seven judge me and Cersei when the time comes. Can I say honestly I regret what she and I did? No, probably not. What I can say is that we were bad for one another, and I never want a relationship so destructive again. You and I, we may occasionally bring out the worse in each other, but that’s true of most people in love, isn’t it? On the whole, we make each other better and happy. And when a man and woman love one another, don’t they usually get married?”

Tears fill her eyes, and he hopes.

The tears spill, and she nods. Leaning over, she gently kisses him.

He relaxes. “I love you.”

“I know,” she answers. “And you know I love you back.”

Lying back down, he entwines his hand with the one not in his hair.

…

There’s a knock on the door. “Ser? My lady? The septon’s downstairs. I have the moon tea.”

He carefully moves so she can go open the door.

Pod gasps, and he realises the lad is likely looking at his back.

“We’re fine,” Brienne reassures him. “Pod- I’m sorry for all you’ve been through recently. I promise, all will be explained shortly.”

Nodding, Pod hands her a jar, sets the pouch down, and looks at her blue riding shirt and matching skirt. “It suits you, my lady. Especially for your wedding. Should I help Ser Jaime get dressed while you talk to the septon?”

Before he can say there’s no reason for her not to see him dressed, she catches his eyes and gives him a stern look of warning.

He shrugs.

“Yes, thank you, Pod,” she answers.

He frowns when she sets the jug down, grabs Oathkeeper, and slips out without kissing him or even squeezing his hand.

Standing up, he motions for Pod to start.

Though he can read the bemusement on Pod’s face, the lad doesn’t say anything as he works.

When it's done, he says, “Let’s go."

“A moment, please, ser.” Pod goes over to dig something out of his bags.

Suddenly feeling a shiver of fear go through him, he hopes Podrick isn’t trying to dig out the axe.

His relief is mingled with confusion when Pod produces a cloak he recognises as a distinctly Lannister one.

“Bronn gave me one of Lord Tyrion’s cloaks,” Pod nervously explains. “I thought you and my lady might - like for you to put it on her.”

He wonders if he might be able to forgive his brother after all. “Thank you,” he sincerely tells Pod. “I would, and I think she would, too.”

Nodding, Pod helps him fasten it on.

…

Brienne takes his hand.

The septon is a young man who’s likely only a little older than Pod. Nodding, he gives a pleasant smile. “Ser Jaime, we can start whenever you’re ready.”

Noticing the innkeeper’s granddaughter is sitting nearby with an utterly disinterested expression, he wonders if people getting married in the lobby and having her as a witness is a common occurrence.

“Now,” he says.

“Then, you may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection.”

When Brienne deftly helps him unfasten it and drape it over her own shoulders, his heart races almost too fast for him to keep his bearings.

She gives him a slight smile, and he reaches over to kiss her lips.

An amused throat-clearing from the septon makes him draw back and turn.

…

May the old and new gods bless him, Pod quickly moves Jaime’s stuff to Brienne’s room after the wedding and says, “If it pleases you both, I’m going to explore the city. Explanations can wait for a while longer.”

He just barely catches the pouch of coins Jaime tosses him before disappearing, and Brienne comments, “According to the innkeeper’s granddaughter, he went to several different septons until he found one he deemed acceptable.”

“We both owe him a great debt, but,” he pulls her closer to him, “I really don’t want to talk about him right now. Far better things to do.”

Placing a hand on his chest, she gives him a hesitant look.

His stomach tightens.

“Don’t get upset,” she says.

He’s tempted to ask if she realises how inane the words are.

“Children are one thing, but if- that is you shouldn’t feel- I know you took me in the forest out of love and concern.”

“Did you not enjoy the experience, my lady? Come to think of it, our agreement was if I satisfied you, not if you happened to blurt out your love of me. Still, you did marry me, and there isn’t much of a way out of that. Yet, I wouldn’t dare try to bed any unwilling woman, let alone my wife.”

She looks as if she’d greatly like to hurt him. “I am trying to be considerate of you! That’s what a wife is supposed to do. You know very well how much I enjoyed it. My body told you that better than words ever could. I just- if you only want to do it for children, I’ll understand. My septa warned me that I shouldn’t expect a passionate husband given how I am.”

Obviously, if he went back in time and killed himself, he wouldn’t be married to her now, but he’d still get some grim satisfaction out of it, and it would certainly serve him right.

Damn both my younger self and her septa, he fiercely curses.

Trying to keep his annoyance in his tone to the minimum, he says, “Brienne, I’m not denying I’ve said cruel things in the past. As early as yesterday, even. At first, it was because we were enemies of a sort. Later, it was just- habit, I suppose. Look me in the eyes.”

She does, and he promises her, “It pleases me to look at you. More than anything, I want to see you bare again and be able to explore your body even more thoroughly than I did in the forest.”

A red blush covers her face. “I’m not sure how that last part is possible.”

Winking, he replies, “Oh, believe me, it’s possible.”

She shakes her head, gives him a shy, exasperated smile, and then, moves closer with a look of hunger in her eyes he knows he’ll never get tired of seeing.

“I hope you feel the same,” he finds himself saying.

Her look softens. “Of course, I do. You know I do.”

“I like to think it,” he repeats.

Pulling him closer, she kisses him and clasps his hand. Holding his eyes, she tells him, “I love you, Jaime. I’m proud to have you as my husband and to be your wife.”

He smiles.

“We will need to be careful, however,” she says. “Until your back is better-”

“I have some ideas,” he declares.

…

Pod’s glare at Brienne would be more effective if he didn’t manage to look so hurt, Jaime decides.

“I won’t apologise for protecting you, Pod,” Brienne says.

“I’m your squire.”

Before either of them can respond, he continues, “Are we heading to Tarth straightaway?”

That answers that, he thinks.

“Pod, now that Ladies Sansa and Arya are safe, you have no reason-”

Seeing the look forming on Pod’s face, he squeezes her knee. “Him wanting to is reason enough.”

“Yes,” Brienne immediately agrees. “Podrick, I’ve been proud to have you as my squire. Truly. Moreover, if you wish to come to Tarth, I know my father would be happy to meet you. I just want you to understand that, if you want, I can give you plenty of gold for you to start a new life. The quest we went on together has been fulfilled.”

The lad has a wonderful smile, he'll admit.

“How will we get to Tarth, my lady?”

Making a soft noise, she reaches over with her free hand to squeeze one of Pod’s. “There’s a dock in the next town. We’ll leave tomorrow and wait for a boat.”

…

With his arm draped over Brienne, he falls into a warm, sated sleep and dreams of blue-eyed children.


End file.
